


Fighting for the Future

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Series: The Queen of Camelot [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Morgana (Merlin), Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Female Merlin (Merlin), Flashbacks, Future Fic, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Magic, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Professor Merlin (Merlin), Protective Morgana (Merlin), Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Morgana and Merlin have had an eternity to bond, but it doesn't mean that everything's going well. Morgana's still struggling to fit in, while Merlin?She's making mac n' cheese at 3am.
Relationships: Elyan/Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin), Leon/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Percival (Merlin)
Series: The Queen of Camelot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020112
Comments: 90
Kudos: 189





	1. The Offending Pasta

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies, and welcome to the sequel to A Lady and her Knights.

‘I will learn your secrets, even if it takes me a thousand years.’ She hissed, the blue flame crackling in response. The room was dim, save for the source of her anger.

‘Reveal yourself.’ She stated, banging her fist down on the counter as steam continued to rise.

The light turned on, and Merlin spun around so quickly she almost knocked the pan from the stove.

Morgana yawned, looking amused as she leant against the entranceway to the kitchen.

‘It’s 3am, and you’re talking to your mac n’ cheese.’ The Witch was dressed in her usual Hello Kitty pyjamas that Merlin had bought her three years prior, along with some bunny slippers that dragged slightly on the floor.

‘Was I being too loud?’ The younger Witch abandoned her mission of glaring at the suspicious-looking pasta, padding barefoot to her flatmate.

‘Just a little. Almost as crazy as your pineapple excitement.’ Merlin frowned, ignoring the way Morgana was cackling at her.

‘That was over three-hundred years ago!’ Merlin cried, which just made her laugh harder.

In the end, she settled for pouting, while Morgana moved to the stove and began stirring.

‘Can’t sleep?’ It may have sounded like a light-hearted question, but Merlin knew the truth of it.

Merlin had always been more attuned to Magic, no matter how much she might have tried to turn it off. At some of the most notable periods in history, her Magic had a habit of flaring up, of trying to warn her that something was coming. Morgana begged her to try and scry, or to dabble in prophecies, but Merlin was adamantly against such a thing.

In the last couple of months, Merlin’s Magic had been acting irrational. She’d almost outed herself multiple times, both in front of her students and colleagues. It had gotten to the point where Morgana had tried to stage an intervention with the High Council, which Merlin didn’t have the heart to feel betrayed over.

‘The nightmares are getting worse.’ Merlin finally admitted, hating how it sounded in the empty kitchen. She slumped down at the breakfast bar, fingers drifting towards the books littered on the table. Morgana was the clean one of the two, always scolding her when she left her textbooks spread out.

‘The High Council…’

‘Bah.’ Merlin inputted, Morgana frowning before continuing,

‘Want to see you. They’ve sensed that Magic has been getting restless…’

‘That happens every other century!’ Merlin cried out, fists clenching.

It was entirely coincidental that the vase on the windowsill cracked, the water leaking out onto the wooden floor beneath as the flowers fell.

When Merlin looked back to Morgana, she didn’t miss the sympathy in her gaze.

‘One day, Merlin, you’re going to have to use your Magic again.’ The pan was lifted from the stove, heading to the sink while the contents made their way into the bowl Merlin had placed on the side earlier. Such a blatant display of Magic made her skin itch, and Morgana knew it, not bothering to watch the bowl land before walking from the room.

Merlin looked down at the cheesy pasta, before groaning.

Life never could be simple.

**

Morgana chewed on the bubble-gum, leaning back against the wall as the students buzzed around her. The campus was full, as usual for a sunny Thursday morning, but the noise was a welcome distraction from the letter sitting inside her jacket.

Her presence on Campus was a usual. She’d pick Merlin up at least three times a week, knowing that the woman would entirely forget to come home if she allowed it. Distractions may be a good thing in learning how to cope, but Merlin always managed to take it slightly too far. To the point where she’d buried her Magic deep down, far enough that Morgana feared it would kill her.

Well, if she wasn’t immortal.

‘Morgana!’ She turned her head to see Dr Alarick Phillips, one of Merlin’s colleagues, rushing towards her with a bright smile on his face.

He was cute. Tall, blond, brown eyes that were usually partially-obscured by the reading glasses that perched upon his nose.

He also had a crush on Merlin, which the woman was blind to.

‘Alarick, nice to see you again.’ She straightened up, glancing to the books in his arm, then back to him. If he was outside, it meant the chances were that Merlin was currently teaching.

‘I suppose you’re looking for Merlin?’ Not many people called her that anymore, it wasn’t the name she went by at the University, so Morgana presumed that her friend had to like the man in front at least a little bit.

‘You guessed right.’ Morgana didn’t understand why Merlin bothered teaching. Not to begin with, when the girl had been bouncing up and down clasping a piece of paper that confirmed her job as a teacher, as early as the nineteenth century.

Then she’d seen how Merlin acted with her students. The effort she put in, the determination that came with teaching them History, but more importantly, the ethics and philosophy behind the study. Of all her doctorates, Merlin always came back to one study in particular.

‘She’s teaching at the moment, but I’m sure you can go on in. It’s a very interesting lecture.’ Morgana doubted that, she didn’t need to study history, she’d lived through it. Still, she thanked the man, heading up to the building and using Merlin’s spare key-card to access the space.

Morgana had jobs. Multiple. She got bored, figured that the easiest way to keep up with the modern world was to be involved with it.

Unlike Merlin, she didn’t stick to regular shifts. She explored as she wanted to, cared little for the views that some held of her when she drifted between places.

The only constant was Merlin. No matter what happened, no matter where they went, Merlin would always be her home. It had been like that for five-hundred years solidly, following the last time that Merlin used her Magic.

Five hundred years was a very long time to hide her gift, Morgana could never imagine such a thing.

It was why the letter in her jacket was even more important, because it was still Merlin’s responsibility to look after the Council. She was still Emrys, even if that name had been used over the years in varying contexts.

The lecture theatre was buzzing with activity, students filling almost every row as Merlin stood on the stage at the front.

She settled down into one of the back seats, content to wait for the woman to finish.

**

‘As usual, we’ll end the session with a debate. I’ll need nine volunteers.’ Hands shot up, and Merlin hid her smile at the enthusiasm of her students. They’d taken a while to be comfortable with this end activity, but once they’d settled, it was an incredible method of debate.

She picked based on their views. She knew each of the one-hundred and seven students in the Hall, although not all were here today. A couple of empty seats, she noted, then glanced up to where Morgana was sneakily chewing gum in the back row.

Whatever her friend wanted, it would have to wait.

The nine chosen descended, bickering amongst themselves as to who got the favourite seat.

‘It doesn’t matter who sits at the far right.’ Merlin chided, while her students chuckled. Eventually, Evan took the position, before others settled down around the table.

‘Rules of the round table?’ Merlin questioned, moving back towards her podium.

‘Every person’s views are equal.’ Alice chimed in, before Merlin gestured for them to begin.

The round table method was one that many a lecturer had praised her for. It was effective enough, she supposed, listening to the nine debate the topic of today: whether the fall of Constantinople had been pre-determined before the final siege.

Merlin couldn’t help but let her eyes drift to where Morgana was seated, wondering if the Witch would ever comment on the topic. They rarely discussed what they had seen in the past, but Constantinople had been their home for a very long time. In fact, it had been during a time where they had both had the chance to wear a crown upon their heads, something that Merlin tried to erase from her past.

With the end of the hour came the dismissal of her students, Morgana heading towards the podium while they packed up.

‘Thanks, Prof.’ Evan called, disappearing up the steps as she shuffled her papers into an order.

Morgana smiled to some of the regulars, before reaching into her jacket.

The shade of the envelope was enough to tell Merlin who it was. The Council still demanded paper letters to be written, sealed with Magic, rather than emails. Honestly, it was a shame. Merlin had so many emails in her inbox that she could have probably used the excuse that she didn’t see their messages.

‘What do they want?’ She asked, packing her leather-strap bag while ignoring the offered letter.

‘Something’s happening at the Lake. The Council wanted to know if you’d try to summon the Guardian.’

Merlin had multiple issues with the Council. The first was destroying the sanctity of the Lake, stealing the water away and putting it into a place where no normal civilian could ever stumble upon it. According to them, it was to prevent the exposure of Magic.

Magic should never have become a privatised event, for only the use of those that the Council deemed suitable.

Her second issue was the fact that they still insisted on her trying to summon the Guardian from the murky depths. She had no intention of seeing the Lady of the Lake again, nor even wanted to speak of her name.

‘Tell them you’ll be there within the week.’

‘Merlin…’

‘I’m not going. I’ve got exams to prepare for.’ It came out harsher than she intended, far harsher, but Merlin didn’t care. She pushed past the Witch, watching the letter tumble to the ground as she headed to her office.

She didn’t care. Truly, she didn’t.

Merlin reached her office, pushing the door open and heading inside. Not for the first time, she wondered why she’d chosen the name currently sitting on a plaque at the entrance.

_Leonie M. Leodegrance_


	2. The Lake of (not-quite) Avalon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's at the Lake, Merlin's... thinking about pineapples

Morgana shifted, unsure of the darkness that stretched in front. She’d never been too fond of the High Council, mostly because they were a bunch of powerful Druids that passed on their secrets. Like the one about Emrys, and what had happened on that fateful day in 1519. Honestly, it was five-hundred years ago, they should be more than capable of forgetting the last time that Merlin used her Magic.

‘Your Grace? Did the Queen not want to come?’ The boy was new. She could tell, just by the title she had been given. It was one thing to call her a Princess, as they had been ever since Morgana came back to Merlin’s side, but it was another to call Emrys their Queen. Especially when she completely ignored them.

‘Just a small hint, don’t call her that. Merlin, or Emrys, is fine.’ Morgana stepped around the young sorcerer, glancing towards the reflective surface of the Lake. It was hidden well, with protection spells weaving over the outside of the building. To all those mortals that wandered around, this was nothing more than an abandoned mining shaft.

To those that had been gifted with the ability to see the truth, it was a dark cavern, with the lake stretching off into the darkness.

Morgana descended down to the sands, wondering why her Magic gathered at her fingertips, ready to seep out towards the waters.

‘Can you feel it?’ One of the elders asked, Morgana turning to answer when she gasped.

Around her, bright beads of light began to form, tiny pinpricks of blue that spread over her skin. She vaguely noted that she could hear Freya’s voice, calm and comforting, as the abyss spread over.

**

Merlin shelved another book, before hopping from the ladder and moving back to her desk. The pot noodle was steaming away, a great choice of lunch, while she mused over old memories.

It was entirely Morgana’s fault, as usual. The Witch had taken the first flight out to Scotland, where they were currently hiding the Lake’s entrance, and Merlin wished she’d gone. Not because she had any desire to see the High Council, but because she missed Morgana.

They were hardly apart for more than a couple of days. When they did split up for notable periods of time, it was usually a mutual agreement, a desire for some space.

The once-Witch picked up her lunch, twisting the fork while moving towards her most recent journals. They were reserved for just her to see, or Morgana if she ever came up here, the tales that Merlin had written down over the years. Call it sentimentality, but she wanted to remember all the times she’d had over the years.

This was certainly her favourite time period. No longer was she expected to serve the current Queen, although she was occasionally called upon for advice, in return for her hidden identity. There was no need for her to explain who she was to anyone, to guide Kings into battle or watch as Empires fell.

She could sit in her room, eating the not-quite-chicken noodles and wonder if her students would pass their exams. Whether they were studying, or going to the party that she’d heard was happening across town.

Out of curiosity, she moved to the bookshelf, reaching out for one of her journals. One in particular called to her, a leather-bound book embroided with gold lace at the edges, overflowing with different sheets of paper stuck into the core.

Sometimes, just for the fun of it, she’d read through her accounts of the past. It was almost as entertaining as watching TV, or curling up with her favourite novel.

**

_1701, the Port of London_

_Today, on the 15 th of June, the Royal Fleet returned to London’s Port after eight weeks away from the Empire. I cannot wait to have my feet back on English soil, nor to show my dearest Morgana the object that I discovered on such a voyage._

_The sea was particularly rough on the return, and I did fear that we might be shipwrecked. Thank the Gods that I was saved that injustice, instead managing to return to our Country in time for the summer._

_The ride back to the Manor seemed to take longer than usual. Possibly because of my demands to stop and see the countryside as we left the bustling streets of the capital. Regardless, arriving back home was a delight, especially when Morgana appeared._

_She’s looking well once again. Perhaps it is the joy of returning to Court, alongside the King and his glorious Queen. They grow old, and soon there will be a new monarch._

_Regardless, Morgana looked stunning, as usual. She’s opted for purples this summer, a gown far more becoming than last year’s orange._

_To say she was impressed with my recently discovered plant would be a lie. In fact, she took one look at it and burst into laughter. According to her, she’d never seen me so animated about something so simple._

_‘It is called a pineapple.’ I told her, only for her to laugh so hard that one of the maids came to loosen the strings of her corset. Quite simply, she was not as thrilled by the discovery as I was._

_She did then add to the story, saying that such a thing could only have been created by Magic._

_I quickly lost interest in the pineapple._

**

Morgana hadn’t called. Merlin paced the flat, occasionally remembering a chore she was supposed to do, before returning to her musings. The book had kept her occupied during the day, but by now she was running on her eight coffee of the day, almost able to hear her heart beat right out of its chest.

She couldn’t have forgotten. Morgana didn’t just forget things, it didn’t happen. Merlin was the forgetful one, the one that rolled out of bed and forgot to get dressed in a certain order, or accidentally turned the shower cold rather than hot.

Morgana was the one that had her hair done on the 2nd of every month, her nails done on the third. This month, her hair was its usual black with silver streaks, shorter than usual, and green nails to match. She’d even agreed that Merlin’s habitual tattoo temptations might be worth considering.

Unlike Morgana, Merlin’s tattoos couldn’t be removed. When Morgana tired of a look, she simply used her Magic to change it. Quite ingenious, except from the fact that Merlin wasn’t Magic.

She would never rely on her Magic again.

The stress of the lack of calls was getting to her, she decided. Rather than panic, which was the usual Merlin-trait, she opted for the second best.

Distraction.

Phones really were useful in this method, she thought, flicking through until she found the right number. A quick call, listening to it ring three times before it was picked up.

‘Alarick, hey, it’s Merlin. I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink?’ He was quick to agree, despite the fact it was a school night, and Merlin grabbed her purse before heading out of the flat.

She didn’t even spare a second look at the pineapple in the fruit bowl. 

**

It was a faint recognition, rather than an overpowering flood of memories. The eyes were what Morgana’s gaze focused on, the pinpricks of green in the dark brown, warmth in the way the woman smiled at her like she had seen the thing that made her happiest.

She was dressed in a rather unflattering gown of purple, soaked to her form, and Morgana wondered why anybody would choose to go swimming in a costume that clearly came out of the medieval period.

But the eyes. The smile. The way the woman froze when Morgana shied away, drawing her hands up ready to defend herself if she had to.

It was, quite frankly, impossible.

‘Morgana?’ The voice was what shattered Morgana’s heart, in the end. She stumbled, wondering if she genuinely had drowned in the lake, before muttering out the word in return.

‘Guinevere.’ In the next instant, she had an armful of a soaked woman, hands clutching at her back while she tried to recall what exactly had happened.

She’d stepped into the lake, felt her Magic being drained as Freya’s soft voice sung to her. It had felt like floating, like freedom, but now…

‘Gods, I thought we were drowning, and then you came! And oh Morgana, I’ve missed you so…’ The woman, Gwen, she reminded herself, was still talking. All around, Druids and sorcerers flocked to the shoreline, pulling out the other six people that had emerged.

They wore armour. It had to be heavy, considering the water, and Morgana desperately searched for the one that would prove this was real.

She may not remember their faces, but Arthur Pendragon was blond, unlike the other five. It was what she paused on, Gwen taking a step back but keeping hold of her hand.

‘What in Albion are you wearing?’ Morgana glanced down to her flannel shirt and ripped jeans, then back up to her half-brother.

‘Arthur.’ She tested the name on her tongue, felt the way it sat uncomfortably in her chest as he took another step towards her. Behind, the other Knights were dragging themselves from the Lake, looking around like they were searching for someone.

Oh, this was very bad.

‘Merlin.’


	3. The problem with technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's needing a hug, Merlin's getting drunk

‘Forgive me,’ Morgana rarely apologised, not even to Merlin, ‘But…’ She trailed off, looking between the seven people seated in front of her. Guinevere’s hand kept itching towards her thigh, but Morgana kept flinching away at the touch.

Merlin had given up hope five-hundred years ago, and it was hard not to take the same attitude.

She looked away from her once-lover, instead focusing on the Knights of Camelot. Arthur, she recognised. With her vague memories, she could identify Elyan and Percival, which just left the other three. Although their names were scorched into her mind, the faces blurred slightly. Leon was the curly-haired man, she concluded, looking to the last two.

‘Which one of you is Gwaine?’ She decided being blunt was the best option, noted how each of them looked shocked at her question. Of course, they had been friends up until the grew old and greyed, but that was a long time ago.

‘I am, my Lady.’ Smooth hair, an even smoother smile, she could imagine it. There was a concern in his eyes that was touching, but Morgana knew that they were nowhere near the worst of the storm yet.

‘This is not Albion.’ Arthur pointed out, looking around the room they were in. The elders kept buzzing back and forth, bringing them tea and biscuits, both of which the Camelotian’s had not taken.

‘This is the United Kingdom. Which is basically Albion, but a little bigger.’ Morgana watched out of the corner of her eye as Gwen reached out yet again, a hand finally being placed on her knee. She didn’t stop it, nor complained when curious fingers traced the edges of the frayed hole in the jeans.

‘How long have we been away?’ Guinevere asked the question as if Morgana were a child, a gentle tone yet warm eyes, and the Witch couldn’t hold the stare.

Morgana had not felt scared in a very long time. Not since Merlin had found her on a battlefield, far from home, and promised they would spend eternity together.

She didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t like the pity, or the glances the Druids gave her as they moved around. She especially didn’t like the fact that nobody had brought up Merlin.

‘Around fifteen hundred years.’ The answer had several reactions. Gwen’s hand shot back to cover her mouth, while Arthur snorted with laughter.

His face then went very pale, lips parting as he sucked in air.

‘You’re not joking.’ She wanted to point out that they hadn’t questioned the obvious things, like how she looked, or the fact that they were talking a completely new language. Perhaps they hadn’t noticed.

‘Why would I joke?’ She snapped, glaring at her brother like it would make everything easier.

It didn’t.

Finally, the bravest of the seven spoke up.

‘Where’s Merlin?’ Sir Lancelot, always the most noble, and Morgana could finally turn the pity onto someone else.

‘She’s not going to like this.’

**

Merlin did not like this.

Morgana never ignored her calls, let alone her voicemails. She reached for her eighth shot of the night, downing it before gesturing for a refill.

‘Want to talk about it?’ Alarick asked, voice soothing. He hadn’t asked why she’d sat in silence, letting him fill it with conversations about his students.

Morgana was ignoring her, and it made Merlin’s stomach ache. It was worse than the alcohol, burning away until she could feel nothing but the regret. Had she done something wrong? Was it her Magic?

Had Freya finally told Morgana the truth about what happened, about why Merlin refused to touch the gift locked within her bones?

Merlin wasn’t a good person. She knew that, hadn’t been good since the day she left Camelot. The thought of the old Kingdom was unwelcome in her mind, a hated part of herself that she drowned with another shot.

‘Can I show you something?’ Merlin randomly asked, knowing what she was about to do broke the rules that her and Morgana had clearly established.

She didn’t care.

Morgana was ignoring her, probably because she’d found out just how monstrous Merlin really was. It was a depressing thought, and one that drove her to hop from the barstool, leaving the money on the counter.

‘Of course.’ Came the answer, predictable as all mortals would be.

Merlin didn’t want to be immortal. She’d heard what the Druids called her, what Morgana secretly called her when she thought that Merlin wasn’t listening.

A God.

After all, who had such control over life?

**

‘What do you mean you can’t take us to her?’ Arthur didn’t look impressed, but Morgana hadn’t got time to explain. She led the confused group closer to the building, unlocking the door with Magic and bustling the seven of them inside.

‘What in Albion…’

‘This is a house. A normal one. Look around, don’t touch anything.’ The younger would be panicking by now, no doubt. Merlin never admitted to panicking, not openly, but Morgana knew she did. Just as she knew that the girl wasn’t telling her everything about her Magic being locked away.

She reached for her phone, turning it back on and wincing when she heard Gwaine yelp. Either he’d found the shower, or the TV, one of the two things that would confuse them the most.

Gods, she didn’t have enough time to do everything. She’d need to get them new clothes, food, show them how to survive in a house by themselves for long enough to calm down Merlin. The last thing they needed was a storm.

‘Love?’ She almost didn’t respond to that name. Gwen was hovering in the doorway, dressed in the clothing that the Druids had given her, looking at the phone in Morgana’s hand.

‘I need to call Merlin.’ She explained, the name drawing the others out from their exploration. The boyish mischief that had been on their faces just moments ago vanished, eyes narrowing on the glowing screen.

‘Magic?’ Arthur asked, while Morgana shook her head.

‘Technology. Magic isn’t around openly anymore, people… they don’t believe in it.’ The once-King studied her for a moment, before gesturing to the phone. Clearly, he thought he still controlled her actions.

Morgana noted the voicemails, clicking the play button and putting it on speaker.

_‘So I left you thirty-one missed calls. I guess you’re busy with the Council, so I’m going out with Alarick. Call me back.’_

_‘You haven’t called me back. Did I do something wrong?’_

_‘Scratch that last message.’_

_‘Screw you. That’s all I’ve got to say.’_

_‘I’m taking Alarick to the books.’_

Morgana kept her face neutral until the last one.

The books, the records Merlin kept of her time through history, easily the most dangerous pieces of text ever to exist.

An angry Merlin was a vengeful Merlin, the Queen Merlin whom Morgana remembered well.

‘Ignore everything I just told you about us not going to see Merlin.’ Morgana told the seven of them.

After all, just how badly could the once-Witch react?

**

‘I don’t understand…’ Merlin rolled her eyes, pouring herself another whiskey while watching the man flick through the next page.

‘You will. It takes mortals a while.’ The man’s eyes widened, before returning to the page. As a historian, she could see his mind whirring as it tried to decipher the book in front, trying to find the lies beneath the pages he turned.

‘This is impossible.’

‘You always said that Merlin was an odd name.’ She pointed out, knowing that Alarick was now a risk. They always were, once they’d found out what she was.

‘You can’t be… this… you’re not this woman!’ Merlin downed the drink, savouring the fleeting taste before cocking her head to the side.

‘Why can’t I be?’ The question had a very obvious answer, but that wasn’t the one Alarick settled for.

‘You killed someone.’ If Merlin had been sober, the statement might have hurt.

She’d killed people, and it used to hurt. Back in Camelot, as Queen, Merlin avoided death like the sweating sickness. She’d tried to settle for banishment, for spells, never death.

Arthur called her soft.

‘I’ve killed a lot of people.’ She replied, running a finger around the edge of the glass.

**

_March 30 th, 1461: Towton_

_I don’t think I need to explain what happened yesterday. It will go down in history as one of England’s bloodiest battles, and rightfully so._

_It was bloody. They fought over each other like children, yet ones with weapons. All for a title of King, something that is so horrible to put upon one’s name that I don’t understand why they fight for it. Whoever wins this War, whoever does become King, they’re damning themselves to a life of misery._

_A soldier came to the door this morning. Bleeding, freezing in the snow, begging for assistance. I didn’t ask which side he fought for, what’s the point?_

_It was only later, around midday, that he asked which side I supported. The King, or the Pretender?_

_‘Neither.’ Was my answer, and for that, he tried to kill me. Me, a woman in a small home away from the capital, still managing to find herself in the middle of a war._

_I think that is my curse. War follows me, just as death follows._

_If I hadn’t travelled to Camelot all those years ago, would I know the true burden of immortality?_


	4. Sunglasses and Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's not impressed, basically

Merlin moved through Campus the next morning, knowing that today she’d have several issues to face. The first was her hangover, she thought miserably, nudging her sunglasses further up until they sat on the bridge of her nose. She’d had every intention of making it to the gym this morning, but the headache had prevented that, so she now settled for heading to class with a coffee in hand.

Alarick was her second issue. Her anger had always been dangerous, just as her fear of losing Morgana took over everything when she let it. Telling a mortal what she was, _who_ she was…

Morgana hadn’t responded to her calls.

Perhaps she’d finally realised that Merlin wasn’t worth the time, that she should just settle with the High Council and respect the rules they’d set down all those years ago.

Alarick was due in class today. In fact, she expected to see him moving across campus at any moment, probably nursing a cup of coffee like she was, after all,

‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!’ Merlin grimaced, stared at the coffee slowly seeping into her tunic, then finally glanced up to the girl in front.

No, not a girl. A woman, probably somewhere in her mid-twenties, with dark eyes and frizzy hair. Merlin could have sworn something about her was familiar, just as the tone was, warm and comforting, but she shoved it away.

Merlin had met so many people in her lifetime, that it was very difficult to distinguish notable features about one individual.

‘That’s alright, I have a spare shirt in my office.’ She stared at her soaked top, wondering if she’d be able to get the coffee stain out.

The woman was still standing in front of her, lingering like she wanted to say something else.

‘Can I help you?’ Merlin eventually asked, and the woman’s face crumpled.

‘I was looking for the History department, I’m here to listen to a lecture on…’ She paused, reaching into the pocket of some clothes that didn’t fit her well, uncrumpling a sheet to stare at the smudged handwriting,

‘the advance of Christianity over the middle east.’ That was Merlin’s lecture, but the girl clearly had no idea why she was listening to it.

Still, Merlin wasn’t one to judge.

‘That would be my lecture,’ She attempted a reassuring smile, ‘building straight ahead, follow the arrows to the main lecture theatre. Look for the group hanging outside the doors.’ She then stepped around the woman, wondering why her gaze stayed on Merlin as she moved.

‘Sorry, but do you recognise me?’ Merlin paused, turning back to her, before they were interrupted.

‘Merlin!’ The Professor excused herself politely, before grinning up at Alarick.

‘Rick, I thought you’d be avoiding me after last night.’ The girl looked surprised, but ducked her head and walked away quickly.

Alarick smiled, then glanced down to her shirt.

‘I think you’re supposed to drink the coffee.’ She rolled her eyes, falling in step with him sharply.

‘Idiot.’

**

The lecture theatre had never been busier, and for that, Morgana was glad. Sneaking in six grown men and a very confused Guinevere wasn’t easy, but she found them seats at the back. Combined with the fact that the lights were dimmed at the back, well, Merlin wouldn’t be able to see them.

Unless she could sense the Magic that surrounded them. She had thought about that idea, before deciding Merlin would ignore any feelings that came up.

The idea behind her bringing the group of clearly confused Knights and Gwen was to show them that Merlin wasn’t the same woman they’d left. Gwen had already experienced that, being unrecognised during the Campus run in.

‘Why can’t we just go and speak to her?’ Arthur hissed, before someone in the row in front shushed them. He looked ready to pull his title, before remembering he was most definitely not the King anymore.

‘She’s a flight risk.’ Morgana shot back, before Merlin was speaking.

As always, she delivered the knowledge perfectly. Balanced facts with speculation, including titbits of information that shouldn’t have been available to just anyone. Many a student asked about the battles, the wars, the crusades that Merlin herself had been around to fight in.

Still, she spoke confidently, and Morgana momentarily could forget that everything was about to fall apart.

‘Do we have any volunteers for our debate on how new religions impact a land?’ Hands shot up, most students eager to make it to the Round Table. Merlin laughed, adjusting her microphone before glancing around.

Morgana didn’t have time to stop Gwaine from putting his hand up. She yelped, lunging across Elyan to reach for his arm, but the commotion had drawn attention.

More worryingly, it attracted Merlin’s gaze.

**

She was more than happy to call from some of the mature students, turning her attention back to the table as the man trotted down the steps.

‘Each take a seat at the Round Table.’ One of her regulars was here, and so took the so-called “King’s seat”, which she laughed at.

To her surprise, the mature student moved purposefully to a certain seat, dragging it back before plonking himself down into it.

When she met his eye, he smirked. It was a lazy smirk, amused, a challenge in his eyes that Merlin found herself entranced by. She took a half-step forward, before realising that, for some strange reason, her Magic had also decided to wake.

No, not now, not in the middle of a room full of students with technology and phones. Merlin took the half-step back, taking a breath before turning to the audience.

If she didn’t look at the student, then she wouldn’t have to worry.

The argument began, bickering back and forth about religions from the textbook point of view, not that she’d expected anything else.

‘Your argument relies on the population understanding they’re in changing times.’ That voice, Merlin could have sworn she remembered it.

‘Elaborate.’ She stated, glancing back to him.

He was still watching her. Waiting, like he had all the time in the world.

‘People don’t often realise what’s sitting right in front of them, not unless they view the change from an outsider’s perspective.’ One of her other students piped up, leaving Merlin to stare.

He was dressed in loose clothing, a shirt hiding a chain that gleamed under. Strange, she could have sworn she recognised it. The way the metal twisted, the patterning, the way it would feel if her fingers wrapped around…

She caught her reflection in the man’s eyes, saw the faintest flicker of gold trying to break free.

Merlin moved to the side of the stage as quickly as she dared, reaching Alarick, who was due to take the second half.

He caught her when she stumbled, the chatter from the crowd drowning out as they realised there was something wrong.

‘Merlin?’ He hissed, while she wondered why her heart felt ready to burst.

‘Take the class.’ She stated, pushing past him and into the shadows.

**

Water splashed over her skin, doing little to stave off the oncoming panic. Still, she repeated the motion, listening to the door open. Footsteps echoed in the marble bathroom, and she didn’t need to turn to know the student had followed it.

‘You shouldn’t be in here.’

‘You know who I am, Merls.’ In the end, it was the nickname that hit her. That shattered every single mirror in the bathroom simultaneously, right as she brought her fists down either side of the sink.

It cracked, water hissing from the pipe as she turned to the man.

Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot, did not flinch when she squared up to her full height. He watched, but made no move to cower from her, even though her eyes had to be burning.

‘Leave, before I make you.’ She snarled, voice the dark storm that she’d summoned back on the battlefields so long ago.

Her body burned, ached with the energy that she tried to control so badly, and she feared she’d burst if he stayed.

Unfortunately, Merlin had never been lucky. The door swung open again, Morgana’s form appearing as she looked around.

‘Merlin…’ She’d known. That was why she hadn’t responded to her calls, because she’d been with Gwaine.

Gwen. The girl from earlier, the one with the warm eyes and the brightest smile…

They were back. All those that she’d spent a millennium trying to find, only to realise that they weren’t coming back.

Arthur was back.

‘Get out.’ She meant it, was fully ready to challenge Morgana if the Witch tried.

She did. She took another step, reaching out for Merlin like she could soothe her.

Merlin didn’t want her touch. She didn’t want anything, snatched her hand back and let her Magic spark.

‘You betrayed me.’ Just as Morgana had done all those years ago, when Merlin had begged and pleaded for them to reconcile, when the Witch had promised they would always be together.

Just the two of them.

‘Please, let me explain, I just wanted you to think before you…’ Morgana halted, realising what her sentence implied, and Merlin felt her laugh turn cold.

‘Get out, before I strike you down where you stand.’ Now Gwaine looked afraid, confused and hurt, taking a step towards her like Morgana had.

‘Merls…’

‘And you, Knight. Go back to whatever lake you dragged yourself out of.’ And with that, Merlin let her Magic wrap around her for the first time in five-hundred years, vanishing from the broken bathroom.

**

_‘I’ll wait for you.’ Merlin promised, clutching at the man’s shoulders as he sagged into her grip. Greying hair, but the eyes had never changed, still held the teasing mischief that she’d fallen in love with all those years ago._

_‘I’ll never leave you.’ Gwaine promised, guiding her forehead until it pressed to his. The two of them, with the world standing still, her smooth forehead against his wrinkled one._

_‘Stay, stay with me.’ The Court Physician, a boy named Malcolm, had told them it was an incurable mass in his chest. A tumour, and Merlin’s Magic wasn’t advanced enough that she could destroy it._

_Gwaine would be the third of her lovers to leave, and the one she’d dreaded._

_‘I will.’ Gwaine soothed, stroking her hair as she let her tears fall to his cheeks._

_When the fingers released the strands of raven hair, the Witch pulled back, found Gwaine’s eyes unfocused, staring up at the stormy sky above them._

_Her hands shook as she moved them to his heart, just like he had all those years ago._

_‘Stay with me.’ She begged, kneeling in the grass cradling the man she loved so dearly._

_‘Please, just wake up.’ She shook him gently, sending one last pulse of Magic into his unmoving body._

_‘You can’t leave me alone.’_


	5. Get To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't run far

Merlin was responsible for what happened to Morgana. Hundreds of years ago, when she’d first chased after the Witch, she’d repeated that thought over and over inside her head. She was the cause of Morgana’s pain, was the reason that the Witch ran from Camelot after losing the love of her life.

They’d met on the battlefield. Merlin called it Destiny, for they’d always supposed to face off against each other.

The Crusades had been a mess of ideas and faith, mixed up into one prominent religion. Morgana would follow chaos, as always, because it called to her like Magic called to Merlin.

She’d found her quite easily. A prominent female Warrior, dressed in armour with a sword by her side, slumped in the mess of bodies and blood as she crossed the field. She had remained invisible to all but her closest friend, had looked down at Morgana before kneeling.

‘I shouldn’t have burdened you with immortality.’ That moment, kneeling amongst mankind’s biggest sin, was the moment where they both unified. Since that day, they’d rarely strayed. There were times when they were drawn apart, but up until the five-hundred years ago mark, they’d been close.

Then Merlin lost Aithusa, and her Magic, all in one foul move.

It was why she didn’t hide from Morgana now, despite everything that was happening. The Witch may have aligned herself with the people from Camelot, but Merlin could understand that. Maybe she still had hope that they could go back to being what they had before.

Merlin had lived for a very long time, and if there was one thing she’d learned, it was that she wasn’t the hero in every story. She’d played the Villain, had been the one to cause anarchy and chaos, to spill blood. If you lived long enough, there was no way of being the Hero.

The apartment that they shared had a small ground-floor garden, with a selection of plants that Merlin occasionally tended to. It was a way of venting out the Magic that tried to burst, by giving it to the ground around her, as she was doing now.

Morgana would be watching her from the window, trying to decide whether to come and speak to her. The others might be there, and for a moment, Merlin was tempted to turn around to see them. To see if she could recognise her lovers.

In the years that followed Camelot, Merlin had fallen low. Morgana had told her what she’d done, but Merlin never admitted to her own experiences. Mostly because she’d tried to use her Magic to replicate memories, had walked amongst her own mind as she craved the affection of those she loved.

‘Why purple?’ Merlin flicked one eye open, looking first to the colour of every flower in the garden, then to the pair of boots beside her.

It was one of _them_.

‘Why not?’ She snapped, trying to place the voice to the fragmented memories.

It was her heart that gave him a name, in the end, and Merlin listened to him take a seat beside her.

‘Do you remember me?’ That was the question, wasn’t it? Did she remember them?

Merlin looked across at Lancelot, forcing her eyes to study his features. He’d been the last Knight to die, the one that stayed with her the longest. It had been a bitter ending, Merlin’s heart cracking every time a death struck, Lancelot trying his best to keep her heart light.

‘I remember you.’ She replied, before looking back out to the garden.

‘Morgana tells us you don’t use your Magic anymore.’ Lancelot had always had a habit of asking questions with statements, and for some reason, her lips quirked up in amusement at the reminder.

‘It’s not always used for good.’ Lancelot hummed, before shuffling slightly closer to her, until their shoulders were almost touching.

Merlin didn’t know if she wanted more, or less.

‘Would you give us a chance to get to know you again, Merlin?’ Would she? It would end in pain, as it always did when she allowed someone close. She’d be heartbroken, would cause the world strife and anguish yet again.

But Merlin wanted to be selfish. She wanted to love them, to get to know them, to remember the details that time had blurred.

‘Perhaps.’ She turned her nose up slightly, acting nonchalant as she stared back at the flowers.

‘You always were stubborn.’ Lancelot said with a sigh, before he smiled. He stood up sharply, offering out his hand to her once he was on his feet.

‘Let us get to know you.’

**

Morgana watched as Merlin came back into the apartment, wary as she glanced around at the group. Gwen was the first to bounce to her feet, rushing forward like she had with Morgana. Merlin accepted a very awkward hug, eyes flicking across to Morgana for reassurance.

The Witch was just as confused as her companion. Once Gwen had released Merlin, chatting away about how sorry she was for the drink incident, Merlin quickly made her way to Morgana’s side.

The Knights were waiting patiently for her to lead the conversation, but Merlin wouldn’t do so, not if she didn’t feel strong enough.

‘We should start with some food.’ Morgana suggested, Merlin vacantly nodding as she moved across towards the takeaway menus that were pinned to the board in the kitchen.

‘Chinese?’ She asked, not looking back.

Clearly, Lancelot’s talk had only done so much to comfort her.

‘Sounds good, do you want me to…’

‘I’ll order.’ Merlin’s phone was out, and she vanished from the room to make the call, leaving Morgana to turn back to the group.

‘What is… Chinese?’ Arthur questioned, just as a knock at the door sounded. The seven of them jumped, while Morgana moved across and unlocked it, halting when she saw who was on the threshold.

‘Alarick?’ The man startled, before smiling warmly.

‘Morgana. Hi, I was looking for Merlin?’ Of all times, now really wasn’t the best. She was about to point that out, but Merlin was entering the room, and her smile perked up when she spotted him.

‘Rick! Hey, is everything okay?’ Morgana stepped back minutely, giving Merlin the freedom to enter the space.

‘I brought back your journals that you let me borrow. I’ve got to say, medieval France sounds terrifying.’ Morgana’s eyes were glued onto the journal he offered back out, leatherbound and quite clearly Merlin’s own diary.

To her shock, the younger invited the man in, completely ignoring the group of seven. He briefly waved to them, before his attention was back to Merlin.

**

Alarick provided a comfort she hadn’t had from a mortal in a while. He had read about her, and he still wanted to know more. They discussed it over a cup of tea, while she waited patiently on the Chinese to arrive.

By the time it did, Alarick was leaving with five more journals, and Merlin’s nerves had subsided.

To most mortals, Merlin was impressive. She didn’t need to feel terrified by a group of humans, especially not when she’d lived for so long.

‘I’ll see you on Monday.’ She smiled, noted that he lingered in the doorway.

‘How about tomorrow?’ Merlin cocked her head to the side, confused, watching as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

‘Sorry, I… would you like to go for a drink with me? Dinner?’

A date.

Merlin hadn’t been asked out on a date in such a long time. It was probably back in the Victorian period, where she’d served at Victoria’s side while charming the men of court to make them easier to work.

An actual date?

He knew what she’d done, and who she was, but he was treating her the exact same as before.

‘I’d like that.’ She answered carefully, watching as his smile perked up.

‘Great, shall I pick you up at 7?’ What was she doing? She knew the others would be watching, waiting, but why did she owe them anything?

She was her own person, and if she wanted to go out for a drink, she would do so.

‘Seven sounds lovely.’ Alarick left with the brightest smile on his face, while Merlin tried to work out what exactly she’d just done.

From Morgana’s look of shock when she turned back around, her friend was just as confused.

**

She couldn’t sleep. It drew her out of bed, through the corridors of their home until she finally ran into another night-walker.

‘You never could sleep peacefully.’ Arthur commented, finally daring to look her in the eye. Merlin ignored the way her breathing hitched, taking another step until she stood by his side, looking out of the window.

‘You snored loudly.’ She pointed out, wondering if he’d always been this warm. His skin practically radiated heat, and combined with the fact that they were almost shoulder to shoulder, he was like a fire.

‘Bad dreams?’ Merlin eventually asked, not looking over at him. Arthur’s eyes were on her, she could feel his stare, but she was a coward.

‘I just woke up to a land where everything seems like Magic, but apparently is technology.’ She snorted with laughter, noting the way Arthur’s lips always twitched.

‘You’ll get used to it. It’s pretty simple, when you break it down.’ The world always looked more peaceful at night, she thought, looking at the moon while Arthur stood by her side.

‘I missed you.’ He finally stated, a simple sentence, yet one that made Merlin tense up.

‘How long was it? For you, I mean.’ She corrected, hands gripping onto the counter as she did so.

Some things didn’t change, even in a millennium. Arthur’s presence soothed her, voice made her muscles relax without her command.

‘It’s a blur. I was with you, and then… I woke up. It felt like no time had passed, but I knew it had.’ He’d had to wait just moments for her, and Merlin had to wait for fifteen hundred years.

Destiny wasn’t fair.

‘You left me.’ Her voice wobbled on the words, breathing hitching at the end as tears pricked at her eyes.

She’d had all that time to get over her heartbreak, and yet it came back within a day of seeing those that she’d lost.

‘I never wanted to. Believe me, I wanted you by my side.’ It was what he’d said, on the night that she’d been coronated as Camelot’s Queen. When he’d kissed her, and wrapped her up in the King’s bed, just the two of them.

‘I’m not the same Merlin.’ Her name wasn’t even Merlin anymore.

‘If that was true, you wouldn’t be so scared of us being here.’ Arthur simply said, before turning and heading towards the guest rooms.

Merlin swallowed down the lump in her throat, padding towards Morgana’s room, sneaking the door open and peering around.

The Witch was asleep, buried under a mountain of blankets, with a frown on her face. Clearly, Merlin wasn’t the only one struggling. Sometimes, she got so wrapped up in herself that she forgot that Morgana had been through the same things, had struggled just as she had.

‘M’lin?’ She slurred, sleepily opening her eyes as the younger Witch crawled under the sheets. She didn’t reply, just reached out for comfort, and smiled when Morgana instantly curled around her.

Whatever had happened, they still had each other.


	6. Toxic Lakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Freya have a bonding moment

It was the next evening, when the Knights were moping over Merlin’s absence, that Morgana received the call. Her phone-screen lit up, vibrating on the counter and startling the others. She picked it up, looked to the caller ID in shock, before raising it to her ear.

‘I thought that phones weren’t magical enough for calls.’ She drawled, glancing to the group watching her. After all these years, it was difficult to talk about Magic in the presence of anyone apart from the Council and Merlin.

‘This was an emergency, my Lady. Would you check the cameras for us?’ A couple of years ago, a mortal had stumbled upon the Lake by accident, something that should have been impossible. They’d fallen into the waters, basically a death sentence now, ever since Aithusa’s death five-hundred years ago. The water was toxic to any that didn’t have Magic, and the mortal had died within days.

The point was that cameras had been installed, a modern way of watching the Lake.

Morgana hung up, crossing over to her laptop and opening it up. Gwen approached first, glaring at the screen like it had personally offended her, while Arthur came to her other side.

‘That’s the lake!’ He pointed out, while Morgana’s eyes focused on the figure approaching.

‘Fuck.’ She swore, noting that Gwen looked startled.

‘Is that…’

‘Merlin.’

**

Merlin didn’t like the Lake. She didn’t like it, but she still walked towards it warily, having snuck in past the Druids that stood guard.

She was supposed to be having dinner with Alarick. She’d dressed up and everything, but when they’d reached the restaurant, Merlin’s heart had begged her not to go in. It was like she was frozen to the spot, unable to move closer, and she’d apologised to her friend profusely. He understood, or at least said he did, but she hadn’t missed the disappointment in his gaze.

Something had called her to the Lake. She was the only creature alive, Freya aside, that could teleport straight to the location of the waters. It was why she had got in unnoticed, creeping down towards the shore.

The water was toxic. To normal people, even one drop would kill. To Druids and those who possessed Magic, a short exposure would be survivable. Any longer than that, and the water would kill them too. It was why she was confused, Arthur and the others had emerged, and Morgana had been able to briefly touch the water to get them out.

Another step, until her bare feet were in the water. She paused, felt her skin burn as the poison tried to attack her body. The pain had faded, with time, but it would still be unbearable to most.

Five-hundred years ago, Aithusa had come to the Lake, along with Merlin and Freya. Only one of them had left the site, another eternally trapped, the third dead.

Dragons were magical creatures. They needed Magic to survive, to live, just as Merlin did. As Magic faded, the two of them began to compete for the same energy, drawing on each other until one of them realised.

Merlin’s hatchling, her beautiful Dragon, had died because of her Magic. Had died, tossing and turning in agony, until she’d snatched his lifeforce away.

Freya hadn’t stopped her. In fact, Freya had been the one to deny Merlin entry to the Lake, to try and save Aithusa.

She took another step into the Lake, before closing her eyes.

‘Freya.’ The Lady of the Lake had been a force of good, in the beginning. Then a neutral ally, before she began to turn bitter after Aithusa’s death. She helped those with Magic, yes, but usually at the expense of others.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Freya was in front of her. She didn’t need to see her, because she could sense her.

‘You took your time.’ Her voice hadn’t changed, still the same ethereal presence radiating from her that had first terrified Merlin.

‘I didn’t believe you.’ Merlin murmured, reaching out curiously.

To touch the Lady of the Lake meant instant peril.

Her skin was warmer than usual, solid under Merlin’s exploring hands. Up to her shoulders, before settling there, waiting.

‘When Albion’s need is greatest,’

‘The Once and Future King will rise.’ Merlin finished, opening her eyes to meet Freya’s gaze.

Her friend, her oldest ally, smiled wearily.

‘It’s almost time, Merlin. Are you ready?’ Freya had promised her that Aithusa would return. It was why Merlin’s fingers had curled around the dagger, before she’d let it kill her Hatchling.

‘They’re real, aren’t they?’ She didn’t want to hope. It was stupid to do so, to want the Knights of Camelot to be real.

But she wanted it so badly, more than she’d realised when she first saw Gwaine.

‘Avalon promised you your heart.’ Freya answered, taking a step back into the Lake.

Merlin wanted to follow, took another step even as her body screamed in pain.

‘I can’t have everything. That’s not the way history works.’

‘Maybe history can change.’ Freya offered out, before vanishing back into the water.

Five-hundred years, and she was still as vague as ever. Merlin got the point, though, despite the riddles she’d had to fish through to get to the end.

Her promise of rest, her time in Avalon, was coming. It was why she’d been gifted Arthur and the Knights, why Morgana and Gwen were allowed to be reunited.

For once, Merlin was allowed to have something that belonged to her.

**

She practically threw the door open, heard Gwen’s yelp and watched as Arthur instinctively reached for a sword. Morgana just cocked an eyebrow at her, while Merlin strode into the room and jingled the keys that were in her hand.

‘We’re going on a trip.’ Of all the things Morgana had thought Merlin was going to say, that wasn’t one of them, she could tell. Merlin watched the confusion, the disbelief, Morgana’s wary gaze upon her.

‘Where to?’

‘Camelot.’ She sing-songed, turning back to the door with Magic buzzing through her veins.

Finally, Merlin was back in control of her own Destiny, and nothing was going to stop her.

**

Morgana followed Merlin’s car, occasionally looking into the back where Gwaine and Arthur were bickering, Lancelot seated between them.

Nobody had questioned Merlin’s words. Morgana was just as intrigued, wondered what exactly was going to happen when they reached the last known site of Merlin’s Magic. It was well-covered with protection spells, guarded perfectly, only a few cabins remained in the woods around it. Morgana visited sometimes, when she wanted to remember where she’d come from, the people that used to be her life.

‘She seemed happy.’ Gwen commented from the passenger seat, Morgana humming in agreement while tapping the steering wheel thoughtfully.

Whatever Freya had said to her, it had been what Merlin spent the best part of fifteen-hundred years waiting for.

‘Merlin’s always happy.’ Arthur pointed out, halting his fight with Gwaine to pipe up. She had to admit, of all of the things she’d seen in a lifetime, Arthur Pendragon in the back of her car was one of the funniest.

‘Not this Merlin.’ Gwaine grumbled, still annoyed at the bathroom incident. In all fairness, Morgana had warned him profusely not to approach her.

‘She’s happy. Usually when she’s doing something she loves, like teaching, or watching TV…’

‘Or dating that guy.’ Gwaine added. Three men simultaneously frowning was hilarious, but she bit her tongue to stop the laugh that escaped.

‘Merlin has no interest in him like that, I can promise you.’ In fact, over the years, very few people had ever gained Merlin’s attention. Morgana had relationships, people she’d fallen in love with and married, those that she would keep in her heart forever.

But Merlin? She was the opposite.

‘Does that mean I’ve still got a chance?’ Gwaine joked, only for Lancelot to sigh.

Clearly, death did little to stop Gwaine’s libido.

**

Merlin sung off-tune, hands tapping the wheel while she kept an eye on her passengers. Leon was sitting shotgun, with Percival and Elyan in the back, admiring the cars that she drove past with wide eyes.

‘Can I ask where we’re going?’

‘I told you, we’re going back to what’s left of Camelot.’ She even dared to add a teasing hint to her voice, watched as Leon’s smile quirked up.

He was just as handsome as she recalled, but that thought was a terrifying one. If they really were her gift from Destiny, then she did not want to waste a moment of it.

She wanted to live, for the first time since Camelot.

‘And what’s in the package you gave to Percy?’ Elyan added to the conversation, looking to the box on Percival’s lap.

Merlin practically bounced in excitement, before tampering it back down and taking a deep breath.

‘A Dragon.’


	7. Never Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin fixes the final piece of the puzzle

Hope was contagious. It got under her skin, itching away until she could contain it no longer, kneeling down in the dirt and reaching for the box that had come with them.

If this was real, if the Knights of Camelot truly had returned, then Merlin had the ability to do something far more powerful that anything she’d done before. The Witch reached for the catch, aware that Morgana was peering across from the safety of the treeline.

Merlin was still Immortal. That wouldn’t change, just because they risen from the dead. She’d still have to watch them grow old, to watch them die for a second time, burdened with knowing that they wouldn’t come back again.

Unless she could do what Freya had suggested. She hesitated, just for a fraction of second, before pushing open the box and looking down to what was inside. Nestled, perfectly contained within the silky fabric she’d wrapped it in, a single white scale. It was flecked with gold, much like her irises, reflecting the low light of the sun streaking through the canopy.

‘Merlin?’ Morgana questioned, no doubt recognising Aithusa’s scale. Merlin reached in carefully, lifting the delicate object out and looking to the remains of their old Kingdom. Nothing survived, not really. Trees remained in place, a couple of cabins built over the wreckage of the Kingdom. It was protected with Magic, barricading the area, but Merlin didn’t need to worry about that now.

Kilgharrah had once told her that the most important part of a Dragon was the scales. They were bound, one singular scale could control a Dragon, if the right Magic was used. Most of the time it was the dark crafts that would attempt such a thing, but Merlin naturally had an advantage. She was a Dragonlord, tethered to the scale just as Aithusa was tethered to her.

Had been, she corrected herself, looking to the expanse of the forest in front of her.

If this went well, she’d be able to see her Hatchling again soon enough.

Merlin hadn’t really needed to speak a spell for a very long time. The language was old and outdated, and her Magic pretty much relied on her thoughts alone, when she had used it. Now, she carefully pronounced each word that she remembered, thinking back to the time in Camelot where she’d had to do a similar thing.

Like the serpent-shield, where Merlin had sat on that wooden floor for hours while trying to figure out exactly how to create life from statues.

This was slightly more complicated, and she could tell by the way the earth grumbled under her touch. Not quite angry, but annoyed that she was demanding so much energy when she’d renounced her Magic for years.

Someone shouted her name, screamed it, and Merlin rose her head to see why they were panicking. In front of her, rather than the forest that had been there for centuries, was a tear in time. Like the Veil that Merlin and Morgana had closed up back in Camelot, but this one had a very different location. She concentrated, ignored the way her head spun and blood dribbled down to her lips, stretched out her Magic until the veil in front widened.

When Morgana gasped, Merlin knew she’d done it. She sat back onto her heels, watching as the Scale called to the Dragon, broaching through the Gates of Avalon just so that Aithusa could step back onto solid soil.

Her Hatchling looked just as he had when they last met, bright eyes and curiosity as the Dragon crept closer to her.

Merlin had done something that shouldn’t be possible. She’d created a pathway to Avalon, a connection between the dead and the living.

She’d never have to be alone again.

**

Morgana let her arm stretch around Gwen’s waist, dragging her closer until they occupied the same space. The couch was large enough for the both of them, but that was no excuse for not remaining pressed from head to toe.

Merlin had done the impossible. She’d made sure that Morgana would never lose her lover again, would never have to watch Gwen die, knowing she couldn’t see her again. Her wife, her heart, would always be with her. The Witch refused to let herself tear up, but if she was sniffling, Guinevere would never tell.

‘Do you think they’re going to make up?’ Right, the Knights. After Merlin had finished bleeding continuously, she had left her Dragon to explore the modern world, protected with at least thirteen different binding spells to ensure he was safe. Once Merlin was done, Morgana was the one to point out that they probably needed some time to bond with their loved ones.

Gwen had been delighted with the idea of movies, hence why Morgana was able to enjoy this moment. She didn’t care much for the Harry Potter movies, but Gwen was enthralled, giving the Witch more time to watch her.

She suited the modern times. Dressed in a long skirt and a blouse, probably because of the fact she wasn’t used to showing skin, with her hair loose around her shoulders. Perfect, Morgana thought, letting her head rest on her lover’s shoulder.

‘Merlin’s stubborn, but so is Arthur. I’m sure they’ll settle.’ Morgana was unsure how long it would take for Merlin to be able to relax around them, the woman had been hurt far too much to trust so easily. But perhaps, now that she knew she wouldn’t have to be alone again, there would be a sense of peace.

‘I hope so. They all pine terribly when she’s gone.’

**

Merlin hated Morgana’s suggestion of splitting. It meant she had nobody to save her from the scrutiny of those that had once been her lovers, steadily downing another drink and then glancing to where Gwaine was attempting to work the microwave.

She wondered if he’d be interested in learning how to make mac n’ cheese.

‘What’s this?’ Arthur picked up yet another object, this time one of Morgana’s watches. Merlin reluctantly abandoned her drink, sliding from the stool to wander across.

‘A watch. It tells the time.’ She reached to show him, refusing to flinch when his skin brushed over hers.

‘Merlin!’ Her distraction meant that Gwaine had gone missing, no longer standing by the microwave but shouting from the direction of her bedroom. She sighed, wondering why a smile formed on her lips as she did so, before wandering off to find him.

They were all in her room, snooping around with her permission. Lancelot had settled flicking through photos, while Elyan was staring at her very colourful wardrobe. Percival was looking at her sketchbook, looking rather large in her small corner-chair. Leon was trying to be respectful, as always, peering over Lancelot’s shoulder and occasionally catching clothes that Elyan threw in his direction.

Gwaine, however, was holding her last birthday present from Morgana.

Merlin yelped, lunging to snatch the pink object from his hands, right at the time where he managed to turn it on. Forgetting that her Magic could have simply solved the problem, she eventually wrangled it out of his hands and shut it off, putting it back in the draw sharply.

‘ _Mer_ lin…’ Arthur began, teasing yet curious,

‘What was that?’ Gwaine finished, intrigued. She blushed, tried to think of a suitable explanation, then realised she was still sitting right beside Gwaine on the bed.

‘Nothing.’

‘That definitely means it’s something.’ Elyan chimed in, while Merlin pouted.

‘You’re supposed to be on my side!’ She protested, realising that the others were smiling at her like they were sharing an inside joke. It wasn’t until her head turned to Percival for support that she realised that this was what it used to be like, back in Camelot.

‘What is it?’ Lancelot asked politely, while Gwaine’s hand snaked back out to the draw.

Merlin was going to kill Morgana, very slowly, and very painfully.

‘Nothing that you need to worry about.’ She turned her nose up at them, huffing indignantly while Arthur and Gwaine exchanged a look.

‘Go, Princess.’ Arthur lunged for the draw, Merlin squealing as Gwaine came at her at the same time. She was startled enough that she fell back to the bed, laughing when hands dropped to her sides where she was ticklish. Screeching was hardly attractive, but Gwaine looked amused, continuing to prod and poke at her sides when Arthur turned the object in his hands.

‘Ar… Gwaine stop it! Arthur, oh gods, okay okay!’ The hands dropped, Merlin wheezing back a laugh as she finally got out from under Gwaine’s hands, reaching for the object of fascination.

‘It’s… well, it’s a sex toy.’ They obviously knew what those words are, Arthur’s mouth dropping open, fingers almost dropping the toy. Merlin blushed yet again, snatching it out of Arthur’s hands and placing it back in the draw.

‘What does it do?’

‘We are so not having this discussion!’ Merlin protested, then noted that Gwaine was staring at her shoulder.

Right, her shirt had slipped a little, revealing the ink on her skin.

‘Is that like a Druid mark?’ Tattoos had been a thing back in Camelot, although that wasn’t what they were known as.

Merlin shook her head, tugging at the shirt until she exposed it fully.

‘It’s called a tattoo. People can get them, usually because it has meaning.’ Gwaine reached out, and for some reason, Merlin didn’t stop him. His hand covered the butterfly, black and white, before tracing the line.

‘Do you have any others?’ Leon asked curiously, eyes focused on where Gwaine’s hand was settled on her skin.

‘A couple.’ She admitted, before realising they were waiting for her to show them.

Well, she’d shown Morgana, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t ever seen her before.

It still felt like the first time undressing, yanking her shirt over her head and turning so they could see the pattern across her lower back, and the constellation on her shoulder. There was one on her hip that Lancelot’s fingers brushed over, before his hand was pulled back like he feared overstepping.

‘I get one every decade or so, for around two-hundred years. Just small things that I thought were nice.’ She unbuttoned the top of her jeans, lowering the waistband enough to show the one on her hipbone.

‘What about this?’ Percival was tapping one of the sketches she’d made, of her and Morgana side by side. It was their New Years Eve party, in the year the millennium changed. Photos were stuck around the edges, of their matching-piercings, along with the fancy dress that had been chosen that year.

‘Uh, piercings. Morgana’s got a couple,’ More than a couple, she’d had a strange obsession with them when they first became safely done in mass, ‘I’ve had my ears done. Any my lip, once.’ She went to grab her shirt, but Gwaine’s hand was back, resting just below her bra as his thumb brushed over the Crown that was inked onto her skin just under the wire.

Nobody had touched her like that for a very long time. Nobody had stared at her with such revelry, like she truly was something beautiful, for an even longer period. Merlin couldn’t do relationships, couldn’t keep anyone close apart from Morgana, and it showed in her history.

Gwaine’s eyes flicked up to hers from his seated position on the bed, a question on the tip of his tongue that he didn’t have to ask, because she somehow knew what he was wanting to know.

‘No, I never… there wasn’t anyone after Arthur.’ His eyes drifted to her fingers, to where a ring was very noticeably absent, before returning to look at her.

After Arthur, Merlin had never married again.

‘You never married?’ Lancelot asked gently, the air thick enough that Merlin could have cut it if she chose to.

‘No,’ She croaked, heart aching in her chest, ‘It never felt right.’ Fifteen-hundred years, and she’d never married another man.

Gwaine stood slowly, giving her time to back away, but her feet felt rather solid on the ground as he approached. When there was no distance between them, a hand came to settle on her hip, the other cupping her cheek slowly.

‘Merlin.’ He’d done this, all those years ago, when Merlin had thought they hated her. Now, she knew that they still loved her, but she didn’t know if she could jump so quickly again.

She knew what it would be like, if she lost them.

She shuddered, let her eyes fall shut and tried to control the way her chest was heaving, the tears that pricked at her eyes.

Lips hit her forehead, warm and gentle and soft, and she felt Gwaine smile against her skin.

‘You won’t ever have to be alone again, Merls.’


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crack, fluff and smut my dudes

‘Merlin! Arthur won’t let me have control of the box!’ Merlin yelped, almost falling over in the shower as she reached for a towel, having to resort to Magic to get it around her form in time for Gwaine to come barging into the room.

The six of them had no concept of personal space, probably because they weren’t used to it back in Camelot. They’d done everything together, but Merlin had been on her own for a very long time.

‘Gwaine!’ She protested, wondering how Morgana had found this so easy. No, not easy, the Witch had just settled in quicker. They’d taken yet another vacation, mostly because Merlin complained of the noise coming from their room at night.

She was happy for Morgana, truly, she was. But it didn’t mean she was ready to fall right back into the habits of Camelot, especially when she couldn’t fully remember what life had been like.

Merlin had been many things in her thousands of years of living, from a soldier to a Queen, a noble to a peasant, but she’d never been loved like this.

‘Sorry, sorry, I just… why is the water coming from the walls?’ There was a reason she’d kept the Knights out of her bathroom.

Her shower was beautiful. In fact, it was quite possibly the thing she loved the most in the apartment. Smooth tiles and a showerhead that came from the ceiling, along with jets at the side and a shelving unit that popped out whenever she tapped it. An in-built radio and music system, which helped her shower-concerts.

It was also larger than a simple unit, a walk-in space that had the towels at the far end.

‘It’s a shower.’

‘My shower doesn’t do that.’ Gwaine accused, pointing a finger at her and wiggling it, while Merlin clutched at the towel around her chest.

‘That’s because mine is nicer.’ She smugly told him, regretting it when he turned his head to the door.

‘Princess! Come see this!’ Scowling, the Witch regretfully stepped further out of the water, tucking the towel tighter as yet more people came running into her bathroom.

Some of the modern technologies were amusing to teach. Some were scary, like when she had to scold Gwaine for turning the gas on and leaving it.

‘I want this shower.’ Arthur protested, while Merlin perched on the edge of the toilet and waited for them to leave. They usually lost interest pretty quickly, like pups exploring a new habitat.

Her room was usually out of bounds, just because she liked her privacy. Her bathroom was the same, ever since Gwaine had stuck a tampon in Arthur’s mouth to see what would happen.

She zoned out, tapping her bare foot on the tiled-floor to the music still floating out of the shower, the water still running. She’d not finished conditioning her hair yet, but she had managed to shave her legs, so that was better than nothing. Picking at one of her nails, she noted that Percival was studying her feet very intently.

Ah, right. The tattoo she’d not shown them, on her inner ankle, before stretching up. It was one of her favourites, a vine that crept up to her knee. Percival’s eyes followed it to the towel, before he met her stare, blushing.

‘… can’t just disturb her like this!’ Lancelot was saying something to Gwaine and Arthur, probably about coming in to her room, but Merlin didn’t mind. She was too busy lifting the towel to her knee, so Percival could finish seeing the tattoo. He studied it for a moment, before smiling.

‘What plant is it?’ He asked, Merlin shifting as she realised that the question had drawn attention.

‘Ivy vines.’

‘It’s pretty.’ He stated, while Merlin tried to work out how she felt on the praise.

‘How many did you say you have in total?’ Elyan had now joined in the conversation, distracting Gwaine and Arthur from their bickering.

‘Twenty-four.’ She admitted, wishing she had more clothes on.

It would only take one of them to notice…

‘What’s that?’ Leon came across, before halting as his eyes focused on her wrist. It was one of the ones she could cover with foundation, usually, and she offered it out.

‘Another constellation. Of your birth-month.’ She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to tell him. She shouldn’t, she should tell them to get out of the room.

‘Mine?’ Leon looked amazed, reaching out for her hand. His thumb brushed over the skin, studying the dark lines before looking back up.

‘I’ve got one for each of you.’ She’d forgotten them. She tried to convince herself that she had, because it made it easier, when in truth, she hadn't. The marks of the Knights of Camelot were on her body, by her choice.

‘What’s mine?’ She was thankful her bathroom was big, because the six men seemed to gravitate closer, Elyan peering down while she showed her other wrist.

‘The star you kept pointing to when you did your rounds, it was a planet.’ Venus, to be more precise, and she let him study it for a moment longer.

She remembered more than she wanted to say aloud, yet the words kept coming.

‘What about mine?’ Percival asked, Merlin shifting slightly so she could pull the towel to reveal her hip. It just about kept her covered, Magic holding the hem of the towel so she wouldn’t let it slip too far.

‘Your favourite bird.’ A raven, which Merlin had always scolded for being boring. Percival didn’t dare reach to touch, but he smiled up at her in a way that made her head hurt.

‘And mine?’ Lancelot was a lot more polite in the way he asked, giving her space to stand up to show the mark on the back of her thigh.

A sword, engraved like the one she’d got him for his fortieth birthday. Lancelot’s smile, like Percival’s, was blinding.

Gwaine and Arthur were both waiting, neither wanting to ask for fear of losing to the other.

‘You’re both idiots.’ She huffed, fully intending on leaving them standing there like idiots, but…

‘Can I see mine?’ Arthur finally asked, halting Merlin in her tracks.

She did the same thing as she’d done to Percival, shifting the towel around to reveal her upper right thigh, where the Pendragon emblem sat. Arthur’s eyes narrowed on it, curious, his fingers curling up like he was having to stop himself from reaching for her.

‘What about mine?’ Merlin snorted, wrapping the towel tighter.

‘You can’t see yours.’ She stated, turning back to the shower.

‘Why not?’ Gwaine said, pouting in that way that would make Camelot-Merlin a blushing mess.

‘It’s on my inner thigh.’ And, quite clearly, she wasn’t wearing anything.

‘It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.’ Gwaine’s grin was damn-near feral, eyes dark and dangerous as he challenged her.

The old-Merlin might have risen to the challenge. She did consider it, dropping the towel and letting him see his mark, before her panic rose back up.

She wasn’t their Merlin. She was a new Merlin, one that was still terrified of them being back.

‘Out, I need to shower.’ She turned her back on him, knowing his eyes would always make her give in.

A hand settled on her towelled-hip, a body pressing up behind hers. She still matched his height, almost, so she could lean back into a broad chest and let him crowd her space, confuse her as his hand settled on her wrist. Feeling the pulse, she realised.

‘Merls.’ When they’d been together, all those years ago in Camelot, it had been Gwaine that led them to explore her body. Gwaine, who instigated things knowing she would be nervous about doing so.

It had been over a thousand years, but Merlin’s body remembered what to do, head tilting the side to give access to her neck.

She wanted him. She wanted all of them, wanted to relearn every inch of their skin with her fingers, with her lips.

‘I need to shower.’ She bit out, voice wobbling and her stomach twisting into knots.

When Gwaine stepped back, she almost called after him.

Almost, but not quite.

**

Marking exams was hard work. It led to a lot of energy drinks, to her staying up late and laughing, crying and screaming in frustration as her students worked towards their grade. Some would fail, she knew that, but she was always determined to have each of them pass her classes. It was why it was so frustrating, to read the answers when she knew they could do better.

‘You look close to contemplating murder.’ Elyan drawled, standing in the doorway with a mug in his hand. It was probably tea, he had a weird obsession with the drink.

‘Already past that stage.’ She grumbled, watching as he walked across to sit opposite her desk. They were in the apartment, with Gwaine and Lancelot out exploring the town, and Morgana taking her brother on a shopping trip. Gwen had probably taken Leon and Percival out in search of Gwaine, knowing he should be supervised.

‘You care a lot about them?’

‘They’re my students. I want them to succeed.’ She crossed out another word, before putting a smiley face in the margin to cheer them up.

‘You look like you could do with a break.’ He stated, sliding a cup of tea in her direction. She snorted, took it and kicked her feet up under the desk, settling them on his lap.

‘I need to get these done before Monday.’ He hummed, fingers beginning to massage the bottom of her feet. Usually, she was ticklish, but Elyan’s touch was more comforting than that.

The tea was warm, did nothing to help pass the time, but she did continue. How very domestic, she mused, peeking up at Elyan every so often. He looked content to sit and soothe her, to run skilled fingers up her ankles and run back down, humming a tune under his breath as he went.

It wasn’t long until she slumped back into the chair, content to sigh and smile as he continued his work.

‘You’ve got Magic hands.’ She murmured lazily, Elyan laughing briefly but continuing.

‘That’s the nicest compliment you’ve given me in a while.’ He joked, but the truth rang underneath, and she felt herself tense up.

Elyan went to apologise, but Merlin was quicker.

‘I am sorry, I just… You all are the same as my memories, I just didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m not Merlin anymore.’ She kicked her feet from his lap, rose up to move around the desk and perch on it. Elyan waited, patiently, for her to continue.

‘You’re all being so patient, but what if you realise I’m not what you want? If I’m not the right Merlin, or I’m not good enough, or that my Magic has done terrible things. No, I’ve done terrible things…’

‘Merlin, stop.’ Firm, but gentle, and she blinked back tears to look across at him.

‘You’re still our Merlin. A little different from what we remember, but we’ve been getting to know you over the past two months. You’re a little quirkier, you’ve got new priorities, but underneath all that? You’re just as compassionate, as caring and as loving as you were before.’ She hated crying. She wasn’t used to it, not to anybody but Morgana, so it was still strange that her eyes welled up as she scrubbed at them.

‘I’m not good enough for you.’

‘You’ve always been good enough. Too good, in fact.’ A hand reached out for her, offering her the chance that she kept being given.

She’d never taken it before, but she did now.

His fingers curled around hers, linking them together. Warm, a fluttering of Magic that she recognised as her own wrapped around him, and Merlin stumbled forward blindly. She folded onto his lap, curled her legs up and tucked her head under his chin, let herself be held.

‘Oh, Merlin, we still love you. I still love you.’ She bit her tongue to stop herself from sobbing, peeked up and reached for him with shaking hands. Tracing his cheeks, his jawline, able to touch and no longer needing to deny herself this. She ended on his lips, thumb brushing over them as she looked down at him.

‘Merlin.’ She recognised the name on his tongue, the way he said it. Flashes of her Knight in armour, walking out on patrol first thing in the morning, or calling to her when they went Hunting. Of the way he said it when he bowed to her as a Knight to his Queen, before the smirk followed, letting her know that they would continue later in her Chambers.

‘Elyan.’ She answered, before leaning to kiss him.

It had been so long, and she was so unsure. He tasted familiar, his head moving automatically and Merlin copying, like she knew what he’d do. Hands rested on her hips, while she clung to his shoulders, afraid that he’d somehow slip out from under her.

When they pulled back, foreheads touching, it was so that they could catch their breaths. Panting, warmth between them, and Merlin tilted his chin up so she could kiss him again.

**

By the time the others returned, she’d had hours to practice kissing Elyan. To remember how it used to feel, to remember the way it felt when his tongue brushed over hers. They’d stuck to the office chair, Merlin sitting in his lap while they kissed lazily, happy to drag it out.

Morgana had texted her at some point in the afternoon to let her know she was taking Gwen out for dinner, so Merlin was unsurprised when it was just the boys that returned. Some had shopping bags, others were empty handed.

‘What’s for dinner?’ Gwaine asked, perching up on the stool while Merlin continued to move around the kitchen. Elyan was helping, cutting up vegetables and occasionally sneaking kisses from her when she moved past him, not that she was complaining.

‘Curry. It shouldn’t take long.’ Elyan came wandering across to the oven, let a hand rest on her hip before kissing her cheek. It felt good, a blissful kind of happiness that she’d been craving for so long, so she tilted back so that she could peck his lips.

Definitely worth it, from the smile she was granted.

‘Keep an eye on the samosas. I don’t want them burning.’ She stated, watching as he smirked and made his way back to the second oven, looking pleased as he went.

‘Did I miss something?’ Gwaine stated, looking between the two of them in confusion.

‘Merlin! I got you flowers, the red ones you said you liked.’ Leon interrupted whatever answer Merlin was going to give, coming across with the flowers in hand. He looked rather proud of himself, just like he was back in Camelot when he’d give her flowers after their walks in the market. Sure, they didn’t look the same, but Merlin didn’t mind.

In fact, it just made things easier. The flowers weren’t the same, but neither was she, so it didn’t matter.

It was rather on instinct that she went on tip-toes to kiss Leon, felt his hand come to her hip to steady her. If he was shocked, he didn’t give any indication of it, kissing her back with just as much enthusiasm. Teeth grazing at her lower lip, hands tugging her closer until she was pressed to his front, flowers crushed between them.

‘What in Albion…’ She vaguely realised that was Arthur entering the room, that Leon’s fingers were threading into her longer hair and tugging in a way that had her gasping, confused and more than happy to follow his lead.

‘Easy, Leon, we’ve not even had dinner yet.’ Elyan joked, Leon’s lips leaving hers but the gap between them staying minimal. Enough that she could see the hope in his eyes, the love and adoration that she was sure she echoed.

She felt giddy, like she had when she first realised she could have all six of them. That they wanted her, just as she wanted them.

She turned around with a blush, quickly used her Magic to put the flowers into a vase, trying to ignore the way her heart was thudding away.

It felt right.

It felt better than right, it felt like she was alive again.

She turned back, found each of them watching her, waiting for her reaction. Her eyes drifted to Percival, unsure on how to ask, but needing just the same.

His large stride made the kitchen look tiny, three steps to reach her side. Unlike Leon, he was gentle, cradling her and letting his fingers brush over her skin, letting his lips hover over hers while she let her eyes flick shut.

They felt so familiar. Kissing him, she could remember it, could remember the feeling that came with it. Merlin let herself relax, let her lips be bitten and kissed until she was sure they were swollen, until she wobbled back from him and tried to control her breathing.

Gwaine went next, as expected. Hungry and demanding and determined, kissing like he intended on stealing her breath, on making her remember every touch from Camelot. She was more than willing to tumble, to fall head first into the love she’d chosen all those years ago, finally able to grasp at his shoulders and know they’d be there to catch her when she fell.

Lancelot glanced to Arthur, more than willing to let the King go next, but Arthur shook his head. The noble Knight stepped forward, cocked his head to the side as he studied her. She let the arm wrap around her waist, waited for kiss that came, for the way their lips slotted together. To the hunger that was expected, the dark locks that ran through her fingers as she held him.

Arthur didn’t move to her. He watched as Lancelot stepped back, then looked to Merlin.

She took a step closer. A half-step, then a full one, ignoring the way her heart skipped with each step she made.

‘Always lazy, you prat.’ She murmured, waiting to see if she’d be denied.

Arthur laughed. Actually laughed, with that fond smile that was reserved for when Merlin was sassing him, the one that usually ended with her being put in a headlock so he could rough the back of her head.

She took another step, fingers shaking as she reached out for him. Her King, her husband, and he felt just as she remembered.

Arthur’s mouth was hot against hers, biting at her lips until she opened up, his tongue brushing against her as they moved backwards. The counter hit her back, strong hands reaching for her thighs, hooking under them and lifting her back. Someone whistled, probably Gwaine, as Arthur’s hands reached for the blouse she was wearing.

Buttons plinked across the counter, but she couldn’t complain when his head was at her neck, sucking the soft skin while she clutched at him. Someone was moving, saying something that Arthur clearly agreed with, considering she was lifted up in the next second.

She was kissed as they moved back to her room, to the room they weren’t supposed to be in, but she didn’t care. Arthur dropped her down, Merlin bouncing on the mattress and noting that Elyan was already by her side.

Someone shut the door, while Arthur reached for her boots, nimble fingers unlacing while Leon came to her side, reaching for the belt of her jeans.

Each of her Knights, moving together like they did so easily, knowing each other perfectly. Knowing her perfectly, and what she wanted, lips kissing up from her navel as Arthur shoved the jeans down.

‘Make room, Princess.’ Merlin arched up as fingers snatched at her bra, laughing as they struggled.

‘These damned things.’ Leon growled out, before Percival brushed him aside to try.

‘Looking so good, sweetheart.’ Merlin kissed Lancelot, bucking up into Arthur’s touch as Gwaine spoke, his hands reaching for her inner thigh where his emblem was etched into her skin.

She’d always wondered why she’d gone for a big bed, far bigger than she could ever need. A double-King, more than enough space for her to lie in the centre, aware that her Magic was beginning to sneak out.

‘Oh, fuck. I forgot how that feels.’ Elyan grunted out, dropping back and stripping off his shirt as Merlin pushed her Magic further. She wanted to feel them, to touch each of them.

Her jeans were gone, as was her bra, and she kicked off Arthur’s weight so that she could kiss Gwaine.

‘Who first, Merls?’ Any, all of them, she couldn’t care less. It burned in her stomach, a need for someone, for any of them to touch her.

Lancelot was the one to break Gwaine’s hold, to drop the two of them back to the bed as he settled between her thighs, a hand snaking to her last item of clothing.

‘Spread your legs.’ It was close to an order, Merlin obeying without question, blushing when Lancelot smirked.

‘Good girl.’ Leon praised, his chest heaving and his trousers tented, watching her with dark eyes as Lancelot’s fingers brushed downwards.

‘I like this.’ He murmured, tugging at the trimmed hair before moving further, to where she was clean-shaven.

‘Lancelot…’ She had to be blushing, tempted to close her legs, but Lancelot was kissing away the doubt as he began to rub between her thighs. He’d not forgotten what she liked, quite clearly, because within seconds she was arching up to his touch.

‘How do we decide who goes first?’ Arthur asked, while Gwaine’s fingers traced up her thigh.

‘We don’t have to. Merlin uses her Magic for us, so we can all go.’ Although it wasn’t necessarily an order, her Magic obeyed, reaching for each of them as Lancelot’s index finger pushed into her. She shuddered, sighing as he moved.

‘Slow, love?’ Lancelot nipped at her earlobe as he asked his question, sucking a bruise just under it as a second finger breached her.

‘Fast, first. Slow, second.’ Her Magic was already weaving the spell, casting the warmth that Lancelot could feel to the others. Arthur swore, head hitting the mattress as he lay back, watching where Lancelot’s fingers were moving inside her.

‘Hurry up.’ She snapped, watched as Lancelot’s grin darkened.

Fingers were removed, her underwear ripped like it was nothing more than a thread of fabric, before the Knight was undressing. Not quick enough, considering she used her Magic to help, before wrapping her thighs around him and dragging him down.

‘Sure?’ He asked, kissing the tip of her nose in an uncharacteristically tender moment.

She’d never been surer.

It felt like she was being stretched apart. Filled up, a burn that ached as she gasped, clawing at Lancelot’s shoulders as all six of them groaned.

‘So fucking tight.’ Gwaine growled out, Merlin trying to remember how exactly she was supposed to reply to that.

She didn’t have to, because Lancelot was rocking back into her, and Merlin quite quickly forgot about speaking. Nothing but arching up, bucking into his touch and urging him to move faster, crying out when his hand dropped to between her thighs.

Later, once the last of her Knights had crawled out from between her thighs, Merlin lazily looked out across to the window.

The sun had set, the day ending just as it used to. Time, ticking closer to the moment where she’d cross over to Avalon.

She’d never have to be alone again.


End file.
